She's Not There
by Illusions of Insanity
Summary: Just one strike and it's all over. All that stands between him and the road to ending the gods is that tree. It's not her. It's just a tree. (Drabble)


His footsteps were so heavy, so loud, he was certain that he would be heard. At any moment, a swarm of demigods would emerge from the shadows and stop him. They wouldn't hesitate to kill him, not after what he had done last summer. He forced his hands to stop shaking as he rose past the trees and reached an all too familiar hill. His breath caught in his throat as he stared up at the stormy skies.

Thalia's pine was still as desolate as he remembered. The tree was thriving, reaching for the clouds and spreading its limbs wide. His blue eyes flickered down to the roots. He bit his lip as he found the grass and clovers decorated with an assortment of different colors. Deep blue, baby blue, white and violet flowers grew all around the base of the tree. Each color had been planted carefully by himself and Annabeth. Each set marked another birthday she missed.

It was their fault she was dead. The gods killed her. Thalia would still be alive had it not been the swarm of monsters Hades himself had sent to kill her. She would still be alive if Zeus had used his powers to _heal_ his dying daughter, instead of making a tree grow from her body, spreading around her until she was buried deep beneath its roots.

Luke fought down another wave of anger. Thalia died because of the gods. Soon, they would die, too. Never again would a child be abandoned until it was convienent, only to be used for some meager errand.

He forced himself to glare at the tree. His fingers squeezed the dagger in his hand until he thought the handle may snap in half. This tree was only a gravestone. From its branches radiated the barrier, that terrible thing that protected the camp from intruders. It always made his blood boil. Zeus watched as his daughter died before deciding to use her grave to protect any other demigods that the gods had left to rot within the camp.

He wouldn't save Thalia.

If the tree was gone, there would be nothing stopping anyone from walking into camp. Kronos's forces could march in and kill that arrogant Dionysus from his perch in the Big House. From then, only Olmypus would be left. Without the barrier, nothing would stand in Kronos's way.

The skies rumbled above the pine tree. All Luke had to do was break the barrier. The dagger in his hands shook again and he swiftly braced it with his other hand. The blade was pointed far away from his body to protect himself. The metal was laced with Elder Python venom, guaranteed to wither the barrier away into nothing no matter how strong Zeus's magic may be. Just one stab. Just one stab and it was done. Luke took another step and snarled at the tree.

The tree wasn't her. It was her gravestone. It was what the gods did for their children in their moment of need. It was a reminder of that night, of how he and Annabeth had screamed and cried as Thalia had lay dying in front of them, bleeding and gasping. It was the empty look in her eyes and she looked to the sky with a single broken prayer. It was the plant sprouting from her body as it swallowed her whole.

Thalia was dead. This pine tree was just a reminder of every painful moment.

Luke took a deep breath and dug his shoe into the grass. As he breathed out, he furiously buried the blade deep within the bark, imaging that he was stabbing Zeus straight through the chest. He squeezed his eyes shut as his scar burned and his ears rang. He tried to block out the image of her broken body laying in the stained grass. He tried to forget the horrible, horrible scream that she made.

He could hear it now, echoing through the forest.

Tears streamed down his face as he sobbed. The skies finally broke and the rain fell hard and cold against his back. Luke nearly collapsed there, drowning in the anguish of all of the horrible memories of _her_. Thalia would have wanted him to do this. She would have wanted him to exact revenge on the fathers that had tossed them aside. She would have wanted him to avange all of the demigods, their own _children_ , that had been beaten, murdered, tortured. They were nothing but dirt in the eyes of the immortals. Their actions had no consequences. It was time that they finally had their comeuppance.

He violently wrenched the knife from the tree and watched the wound shrivel and darken as if it had been touched by fire. The dark blue flowers at its roots withered in a wave, yellowing the grass they left behind. Luke stepped back as if it may spread to him and kill him too. His vision blurred as he fought away his tears.

He dropped the dagger and wiped his tears away. The rain was soaking him down to his very bones. His sleeves hung heavy on his shaking arms. His chest filled with cottonballs. He had never felt so cold. With one last seething look at the camp, Luke turned and fled into the night. He desperately fought to chase away the small edges of guilt in his heart.

It wasn't Thalia. He had stabbed a tree. The tree would die, not her. Thalia would have wanted him to avenge her.

Thalia was long dead.

Thalia could never come back.

It was the gods's fault.


End file.
